Pushing Silver

Sailing Savanna Marie

About a week after I decided that the call center job was sucking out my soul and quit, I got a call from my buddy Andrew.  "What are you doing next week?"  I knew exactly what he was calling about, and when he offered to buy the plane tickets I started packing.

2 years ago, Andrew bought a sailboat in Florida and I flew down to help him pick her up.  Three of us planned to take about a week to bring her to East Hampton, NY where Andrew lived.  We were in Florida on the water for about 4 days, beginning Key Biscayne and ending somewhere too embarrassingly close to disclose.  We ran aground, we got fouled on our own anchor line forcing Andrew to dive under the boat, we ran out of gas.  We didn't sleep, Mazziar was seasick most of the time we were actually moving, I got a cold from the plane ride.  I'm sure I'm leaving something out, but the point is that things could have gone much better so we all went home.

Andrew contracted a professional to move the boat for him, and after bobbing about 200 miles offshore with no wind for a few days, they decided to come back to land.  On the way into their port of landing, the engine quit on them and the boat ran aground, pounding it hard enough and long enough against the sand to crack the fiberglass at the keel/hull joint.  The boat was still in Florida.

Since then, she's been trucked up to NY and had a lot of work done.  The engine has had a head gasket replacement, allowing her to fire on all 4 cylinders (in Florida, she was only running on one), the fiberglass cracks were repaired, and she had a new radar system installed.  Andrew and his wife Sarah have since moved to Maine and started a family, and the phone call was made to entice me to help him pick up the boat.  She even had a brand new mainsail.

So last Monday, Andrew and I pushed off from the dock in Three Mile Harbor and headed for sea - late and not quite finished with our "to do" list, as usual.  The original plan was to spend the first day getting to Block Island, the second day getting into Buzzards Bay, MA - then things got a little ambiguous.  There was a possibility of picking up a third person, in which case we'd head straight for Maine over about two days, sailing through that night.  Otherwise, we'd probably take a total of six days and come in to anchor and get real rest each night.

What sailing forces you to accept is that plans are subject to change.  Choosing a destination is usually a mistake - it makes a lot more sense to choose a direction and just see how far you get.  We weren't going to make Block Island because the wind just wasn't strong enough, and wasn't coming from the right direction, so we set out for Shelter Island to shake out all the kinks in an afternoon.  We filled up the fresh water tank, and headed out for gas.  In the list of improvements to the boat, Andrew was very happy to show off the new fuel separator - a filtering system that also helps to ensure that there's no water in the gas.  When the bulb on the bottom fills with water, simply drain it out - easy to service and keeps the engine running reliably.  That is, unless you pick up a gallon and a half of water in the 15 gallon top-off.  As soon as we got out of the channel (about 1/4 mile from the gas dock), the engine quit.

With sails up, no wind and no traffic, there was plenty of time to mess around with the fuel filter.  Since the fuel separator system was brand new, we didn't think to carry a spare filter, and in addition to the gas being watery it was also full of some particulate contamination.  Andrew spent about an hour and a half draining (then pumping) the water from the fuel system, and shaking the muck out of the filter.  We arrived in the harbor at Shelter Island after the businesses closed, but in the morning Andrew was able to row ashore and get a replacement - but the only thing available was a cartridge for a diesel system, but it fit and it worked and we were on our way again.

That second day on the water took us to Stonington, CT - not quite what we were hoping for, but it was our only option given the direction of the wind.  We spent a night anchored, then went to a marina for a transient slip to wait out bad weather.  While at the marina, we picked up a radar reflector (to allow us to be seen better by big ships) and I hoisted Andrew up the mast in a bosun's chair to mount it.  Also while at the marina, we were determined to pick up a spare fuel filter.  Neither of us could describe the unit well enough, so we ended up taking the whole thing into the store for comparison.  "That's a diesel unit"  Well, we knew that - we felt we were running on luck and borrowed time and that's why we wanted a spare filter cartridge.  "No, the whole entire unit is for diesel"  News to us...  So we picked up a spare diesel filter, had a laugh, and rested up for the next day on the ocean.

To appreciate how dynamic weather is, you really have to be out on the sea.  In the parking lot of the marina, shorts were appropriate.  On the docks, I was in long pants and two layers of long sleeves.  In the harbor I switched the top layer to a thicker one, and finally on the ocean I added a wind breaker and earmuffs, and switched to my long fingered gloves.  As the day progressed, the seas built and the wind picked up (but still in the wrong direction), and things got a little crazy.  All of this falls under the same weather report, so there's no way to prepare other than to bring lots of layers and make it up as you go.

For those of you that don't sail, here's a quick lesson - it's not quite as simple as putting up the sails and moving on.  If the wind is too strong, you'll be overpowered and have trouble steering.  As the waves come in diagonally, you get knocked off of your heading a little and have to feather the rudder to hold a semi-straight line.  Under normal conditions, it wouldn't take much...but these weren't entirely normal conditions. [Be aware that both Andrew and I have spent the majority of our sailing lives in secluded bays] Under 30 knots of wind and 5 foot seas, I was spinning the wheel 180 degrees in each direction as we progressed over each wave.  Taking down sails is easy in theory - just roll up the furling of the jib to make it smaller, and lower the main sail to tie in a reef.  But the main sail is brand new, still crinkly like the spine of a new book, and doesn't have lines run yet.  Already in our CO2 cartridge auto deploy life jackets, we both harnessed in to safety lines - me to hold on and drive, and Andrew to climb around and run the lines.  When he came back, I was sitting on our 15 gallon tank of reserve gas - it slid around and knocked my legs out from under me but turned out to be the perfect size and height for a driving perch.  I took a lot of spray and was ready for dry clothes when we arrived in Point Judith, RI.  Almost 7 hours on the ocean and we only made about 16 miles of linear progress.  Desperately in need of sleep, we were awakened at about 4am by what seemed to be an earthquake.  The boat heaved up and all of the items we would normally have stowed went crashing to the floor.  Andrew ran to the hatchway fearing our anchor had let go and we were getting ready to hit the rock breakwater, but it turned out to be the wake of a fisherman.  He probably thought it was funny as hell...

The alarm goes off at 6am.  I'm out of bed around 6:30.  Breakfast has been made, eaten and cleaned up.  The engine is warmed up and we're ready to pull up the anchor and take off.  We'll be under way by 8am, but first, Captain Andrew wants me to look out of the binoculars towards sea.  "Anything in particular?"  Captain says "just look."  Peering out of the channel I see what he means - heavy seas and high winds.  Uninterested in beating up ourselves and the boat for another long day that doesn't really get us anywhere, we decided to wait it out.  By early afternoon, the sun was out and we were both suffering from cabin fever, so I rowed to shore for provisions (beer and chips).

People must not row to shore from the anchorage in Point Judith very often because when I landed, the woman and her child that were walking nearby looked as if I had just stepped out of a space ship.  "You did come from a larger boat, right?"  Did she really think I had just rowed from Scotland?  That night we listened to the weather report and decided that the boat would stay there.  We'd sleep late and find a mooring to leave her on the next morning.  Both of us were running out of time and needed to get back to our real lives.  After finishing most of the beer, we were in bed around 11pm.

Sometime around midnight, an alarm woke me up.  I picked up my alarm clock that we had been using and tried to turn it off - obviously something had been set improperly.  But the beep wouldn't stop.  Half awake, I hit it again, the again and harder - repeat this for every button and for a very long time.  Eventually, the Captain got frustrated, came out and gave me some assistance.  It wasn't even my alarm clock, but at that hour I simply didn't comprehend what was happening.  The next time I saw him it was 5:30 in the morning.

"I changed my mind...weather looks good and we should go."  As reluctant as I was, he was right - no point in waiting until 8 or 9 when the marinas open just to find out they don't have space.  That day we made it to Onset, MA and covered about 50 miles, a new record for us as a sailing team.  The last bit going north in Buzzards Bay was a bit windy, and the following seas made it a rough ride.  At some point in the afternoon, the stairs kicked out to the side and Andrew crashed through the floor hard enough to knock out the hatch board.  When we finally got to the channel to Onset, the tide was coming in and we had to fight a 5 knot current to get into a sliver of deep water only about 80 feet wide.  We were very tired and very relieved when the anchor was finally dropped and the engine was turned off.

Cabin fever had set in again and we were out of propane for the stove, so Andrew rowed to shore to pick up pizza.  Halfway through dinner, he gave me the punchline of the trip.  "I didn't want to tell you this while we were out on the ocean - one of us being nervous is enough - but when I went to check the batteries earlier I noticed that we're leaking water from a crack about 8 inches long in the stern."  Andrew has good judgement - the leak is a slow weep when the waves hit us, not a spray, and only in heavy seas...and I'm glad he didn't bother me with that as I was driving.

Savanna Marie now sits on a mooring in Onset and will most likely be pulled out of the water and put on a truck for the rest of her journey to Maine where she'll be repaired.  After 6 days on the water, we only made it to day 2 of our original plan, but it still beats sitting at a desk!  Though my body is back in Arizona, my mind is still in another time zone and needs to catch up so that I can be coherent during the job interviews that will take up the next few days.  Make sure you check out the pictures in the Savanna Marie album.

Humbled by a move

It's been a while since I updated the website, so this will be a long one.  I landed a job at a call center doing cable internet tech support.  Not exciting by any means, and the paycheck is an insult given my background, but for now it'll do and I can live off of it.  I landed the job in early March and our training began on the 12th, so on very short notice I whipped up my move.

I don't like moving.  I live in organized chaos.  To others it looks like a mess, but to me it bears meaning.  When my mother told me to clean my room, I always knew I wouldn't be able to find anything for six weeks.  Moving is like cleaning your room, except you don't know if your stuff will even be intact on the other end.  And whether or not the room will be painted when you get there.  Moving just sucks.

My first apartment charged me part of the security deposit for not cleaning under the oven.  Nobody told me that all I had to do was pull the damn drawer out and mop - I figured they meant move the whole stove, in which case i knew I'd ruin the linoleum, so I went into the inspection knowing they could charge me $15 for not cleaning under the stove, but also knowing the front desk lady couldn't lift the stove.  Then she pulled out the drawer and started scribbling on her clipboard.

I've shown up on moving day to an apartment that hadn't been cleaned and had the opportunity to study the previous occupant's furniture layout to better understand the space before I carried heavy stuff.  Then after they cleaned the carpets and they let me move in, the maintenance guys decided patch holes in my ceiling and repaint.  It seemed like a nice gesture, but they didn't understand the concept of drop cloths and gave my grandfather's leather chair a white speckling, and left my toothbrush all chunky and asbestos flavored.

I've moved cross country in a crappy car with a cat that hates cars, timing the A/C to balance overheating the engine or the feline...when one whined louder, I'd turn it on or off accordingly.  I've driven moving vans with cars swinging on trailers from behind - a tip for the general public...  If you rent a trailer, be sure you understand how the brakes work.  One time I misjudged the size moving van I really needed and ran a bit short.  I had a mini van on the trailer behind me, so I loaded it too.  Uhaul trailers have a tongue compression brake that mechanically slows the trailer if it starts to outrun the truck for any reason.  When the tongue shortens, the brakes engage...simple.  Simple enough to strand morons like me who overload the trailers and attempt to back up a hill.  Trust me, you'll smoke the tires on the truck before the trailer budges...

I've hired movers who didn't understand the meaning of "this side up" and "fragile" and instead chose to lift entire stacks of boxes with a seatbelt slung over their shoulders, dropping the load in a pile-driver motion that puts everything upside down, and the fragile, light weight stuff on the bottom...completely powdered.  And their policies are loose enough to encourage nothing but efficiency.  Basically, they were not responsible for any damage TO A SINGLE ITEM under $500.  How many of us own a significant number of items over $500?  Basically, you can assume that all your dishes will be broken...  Dropped your computer?  Sorry, that was 2 years old and it's only worth $300 - not our problem.  Dropped your TV?  Not a plasma?  Not even a flat screen?  Well, sorry...you signed right here, you see?  ...by the X??

One time I drove a rental truck with a car swinging on a trailer through a construction zone that made me want to cry.  The traffic melted down to 1 lane and the "jersey wall" was above my eyeline (probably about 9 feet tall).  Being a box truck and a constricted construction zone, I had very little room.  For about ten miles I kept waiting to see sparks coming from my side mirrors.  But none of this could prepare me for the move I just had.

This time I had about 5 days to put together my itinerary.  I had it all timed like clockwork.  I'd fly to Virginia on a Wednesday, arriving late afternoon.  2 hours in the car to get home, dinner with Mom and Dad, and late that night my buddy Karl shows up.  While I'm in the air, a moving container is dropped in the yard.  Thursday, after catching up a little and sleeping well (and probably late), Karl and I were supposed to load the moving container.  In the process, we'd vacate my storage unit, and knock out an unneeded monthly bill.  That night or Friday morning, Karl would drive home, and I'd fly back out of Norfolk Friday Afternoon.  The plan was to be in town for about 46 hours - I didn't announce my presence at all.  When i got back to Arizona, I'd start training and about 5 days later the container would arrive on my doorstep and I'd unpack.

What really happened was somewhat different.  I dropped my van off at the airport very early in the morning.  It was early enough that the shuttle bus driver ignored the route and standard stopping points, but drove more of a figure 8 around the parking lot trying to track down the few stragglers that wander in at such an ungodly hour.  I called my mechanic from the airport to tell them where the van was.  You know you drive a money pit when your mechanic volunteers to pick up your vehicle from airport parking, fix it in your absence, get it to pass emissions, then drop it back off at the airport - all while you're away.  I went through security, bought a huge bottle of water, and prepared for the misery of air travel.

There was a time in my life when I absolutely loved flying.  But then I grew taller than 5' 11", started flying longer distances, and otherwise became an opinionated adult.  The hop from Tucson to Dallas/Fort Worth was pretty uneventful.  It was early, I was sleepy, and frankly I don't remember much of it other than the very, very bad chocolate chip "muffins" that were like a sub-par Twinkie.  I slept most of the flight and therefore didn't have a chance to drink my gargantuan bottle of water that I'd bought in Tucson at a newsstand.  Once on the ground in Texas, I hopped on the tram to get between terminals.  At the top of the stairs on the other end was a security checkpoint, with a guard looking at my water bottle and shaking his head side to side.  Nobody told me that I'd left the secure zone.  No sign stood out saying "you're going to spend the next half hour on the phone with your mother while chugging five dollar water out of spite instead of simply throwing it away..."

When I got on the next plane I realized that i was walking through a nightmare.  This thing was a tin can.  I've been on puddle jumpers that shake in heat lightning, and I've been on bread box planes where the stewardess has to shout over the propeller noise, planes so small the pilot asks to re-seat the fat guy and move a few suitcases so we can balance out.  I actually find all of that amusing, but this plane was small in a new way.  i ducked my head walking in, but once through the door I didn't have space to raise my head.  There was a single row of seats on the driver's side, and a double on the other side of the aisle.  Overhead bins were on the left, by the doubles, which meant the tallest part of the plane was on the left of the aisle.  i pasted my left ear to my shoulder and walked as slouched as possible, still burning my right ear on the ceiling as I walked.  I sat in the double row with a spectacularly skinny girl.  We both agreed that if we put the center arm rest down we'd need the jaws of life to get out...or one of us would break a hip.  Directly over my shoulder was the bathroom door, in front of which was the jumpseat for the second stewardess, who I overheard saying "This just isn't right, they oughtn't use this small'a plane to fly more than a hour or so."  We were on that paper towel tube for two and a half hours...

I landed in VA stiff and ready for a nap.  The moving container had already arrived, but the keys had been lost in the mail.  When he picked me up, my Dad informed me that the replacement keys had in fact arrived at the last minute, meaning I wouldn't waste my not-even two days in town.  Then he rolled his eyes and told me not all of the four locks would turn, and the box was "smaller than expected."  When I recited the dimensions, he said "yeah, picture two Port-A-Johns fused together..."  Usually when I move everything gets slapped into boxes in about a week and I am always running late.  This time, the vast majority of my possessions were packed, some from two years ago when I moved out of my house in Pasadena!  The problem was that I hadn't seen this stuff in one place for the same amount of time.  i had no idea how much stuff was left, and when i saw the box in the front yard, I immediately knew I'd need at least one, if not two, more.

Karl arrived and we ate, drank and were merry.  We slept later than planned, but not quite all day, and eventually got around to fighting the locks on my moving container.  The one that didn't move turned out to be disassembled from the inside.  Apparently, other customers had figured out that the lock had seized and moved the locking tab 90 degrees so the door would still come off easily.  We only got two of the locks to function properly.  That was alright because the walls, which were basically made of science fair board anyway, weren't screwed together very well and i was able to get my entire arm into the container and proper use of my shoulder would have yielded the locks pointless.  Light shown through the welds, and before loading my possessions i realized i needed to pad them against the harsh environment of the moving container, not just the bumps on the road.  Dejected, I went to my storage unit in Dad's van and realized it'd require at least two trips.  Essentially, the contents of my storage unit would fill two of the moving containers that i didn't feel were fit to haul garbage.  And then I saw the rental truck sitting in the yard, drawing me in to the office for more information.

A 14' rental truck with top notch insurance and gas was just barely over the cost of one moving container, so I went home to see if I could get out of my container contract.  My misjudgment of the size was my own doing, but this thing was not structurally sound and eventually the company saw things my way and I was told that my money would be refunded, so I went to get the rental truck.

Renting a truck meant a few things.  First, we had planned to be done with hauling and here we were sitting in an office trying to get a truck so we could simply begin.  Second, I'd have to leave first thing in the morning with not quite enough sleep, and I'd have to drive for three days straight to get to Arizona in time to begin training for the new job.  Lastly, we'd have to travel across state lines to actually pick up a truck, because the one at my storage unit was a loaner while her regular one was in the shop.  This loaner was not really rated for long distance moves, so they sent us on down the road.

This is where my sarcasm ends.  I have, without a doubt, never driven a better rental truck in my life.  It had less than 7k miles when I picked it up.  The radio worked well, and it took 3 solid days of abuse from me.  I drove through my old stompin' ground in North Carolina, listening to a little WKYS along the way, heard the British chick that's a country radio DJ in Tennessee - i kept waiting for the British version of "Y'all" or "You'un's" but it never came...  As I drove, I heard the radio gab on about the 10th anniversary of the assassination of Chris Wallis, otherwise known as Notorious B.I.G. and thought about my days working at Sonopress in NC where we pressed and packaged his last album.  That Friday was also the 20th anniversary of U2 releasing the Joshua Tree album.  Saturday was Sharon Stone's birthday.  I drafted the big rigs, ate salty food, and kept my foot on the gas, thoroughly enjoying inching my way across the states.

In west Texas, I hit the border patrol inspection point.  Kinda pointless to put up a big garage so that everyone knows where you are, but what do I know?  I had been driving a long time, and until I pulled up to the officer, i really didn't know what the line was for.  But then a guy in a border patrol uniform asked me in one of the thickest Mexican accents I've ever heard, "hey man, are you a United States Citizen?"  I understood him fine, but the fact that he didn't call me "esse" in the process really confused me - his accent was that thick, and when i responded with a "yes" i had to repress a smirk.  Who's asking who here?

Eventually I made it to Sahuarita and parked the truck just in time to get a good night of sleep before my first day of training.  Throughout the week, I managed to pick up my van (which has never run better), unload the truck, and finally my roommate and I have a furnished living room and the place feels warm and inviting (In my absence, he acquired new couches, and I showed up with tables).  Now I realize how small my bedroom actually is.  But I still like it here and although training is over and I'm really on the job and i find it completely underwhelming, everything is going great.  I'll update this again when there's a story worth telling.  in the meantime, I'll just continue my own adventure...

FLW and local geography

Last weekend I headed north to do some sightseeing.  I got up to Arcosanti (by Paolo Soleri, who studied with Frank Lloyd Wright), Taliesin West (by Frank Lloyd Wright), and took a drive through Sedona.  I also took a walk around the Biltmore Hotel which was built by Wright using his textile blocks.  The Arizona photo album is filling up with interesting things, so take time to look around.

a month in a nutshell

For the folks still checking in for updates, I owe you an appology for the delay.  A lot has happened recently, mostly in the last week.  I finally found a good mechanic in Tucson and the van is running pretty well now.  There's one more part that they're going to try to track down for me, and once that's in I'll actaully advertise the van.

I'm back to job searching.  Last week I decided that I wasn't making enough as a bicycle mechanic to survive, and that my hands are too slow to warrant a raise.  I'm sending resumes out today, looking for a job that'll pay the bills so that I can wrench on bikes part time and not care what I make.  But when the time comes to continue wrenching, it'll be at another shop.

I plan to stay in Arizona for now - there's still a lot I want to see.  Yesterday I linked up with a family friend and started visiting the places on my list.  We took the tour of the Titan II Missile museum, drove through Madera Canyon (didn't get any pics but found a good camping spot) and looked into a few watering holes in Tucson.  Check the Arizona album for more pics of the missile museum.  That's all for now...

The last thing I expected

I've been in the Tucson area for a little over a week now.  The skies are clear during the day, it's warm enough during the day to wear short sleeves most of the time, and I have yet to use my jacket at night.  So the last thing I expected was snow!  Last night it came down in big chunks (mostly mixed with rain) and this morning it's still flurrying.  Everyone in town went nuts last night because the snow (which is rare in these parts anyway) actually started sticking to cars and yards.  The streets are way to warm for it to get icy, but when I went out last night I did have to use my ice scraper.  The 10pm news even had a bit on how to scrape a windshield with a credit card since most folks out here don't carry ice scrapers.

I've got the day off today for a washing machine delivery that's already ocurred, so I think I'll head out on my bike and learn some of the neighborhood trails...and watch the natives make funny expressions as they see me riding by in the continuing flurries!